How Do You Like Them Apples?

Rather Garden of Eden-ish, no?

Chris looking like he belongs in an organic apple juice commercial. Apple picking.

Yesterday we had a perfectly lovely autumn day that reinforced precisely why this is my very favorite season.

We launched the day by playing hooky from church and took an early morning stroll to a local bagel shop, followed by Starbucks. Then we went for a leisurely walk on the Capitol Crescent Trail during which I repeated to myself “I will not waddle, I will not waddle, I will not waddle.” The trail just so happens to be right behind our apartment building, which is convenient to say the least (I can use it to walk to downtown Bethesda and suspect it will be what keeps me sane during my maternity leave). We sucked in a perfectly magical fall morning—very chilly and crisp but also sunny (that dainty early morning sun that trickles through the trees and leaves, not the blah afternoon sun that indiscriminately hits everything. There’s a difference). We walked hand-in-hand like dorks in love under a canopy of green, yellow, orange, and red trees, quite aware that our quiet, easy mornings like this one were numbered, what with Miss Charlotte's grand entrance on the horizon and all.

Next we headed out to a farm in Poolesville to go apple picking. With the song “I Love You a Bushel and a Peck” stuck in my head, we maneuvered through all the kids and their parents to fill up our baskets. Watching all the little kids (who, by the way, seemed to like the half-rotten, worm-hole-filled apples the best) was amusing. They were simply having a ball, going on hayrides, picking out lopsided pumpkins twice their size, jumping in the haystacks, and, of course, picking apples. I kept picturing us bringing Charlotte to the farm next year (oh, sure, she’ll only be around 8 months old by then, but if she's my kid, she'll still be old enough to form an opinion about a pumpkin) and in the years after. Chris and I were debating whether or not she’ll be the type of girl to run and jump into a haystack (which Chris would have done as a kid), or if she’ll timidly approach it and test out its sturdiness with one toe before slowly and cautiously setting herself down (which is what I would have done). Finally, I said that if Chris threw himself into the haystack first, he’d have a little girl jumping right on him in a matter of seconds, regardless of her temperament. Chris agreed.

After picking 32 pounds of apples, we called it a day and returned home in time for Chris to watch the Patriots game while I generated an obscenely large batch of applesauce. I have quite the fall-inspired menu planned for this week to celebrate autumn: Butternut squash lasagna, beef stew, sweet potato and ricotta spaghetti, cheese ravioli (store bought!) with apples and walnuts, and sweet potato and rosemary focaccia. (You might recognize half of this list from the October issue of Real Simple. The rest are Hofmann tried-and-true staple recipes). Now, if only my autumn decorations weren’t all hidden away in storage . . . .